


In Your Thoughts It's Obvious

by monsterhugger



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Cuddling, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterhugger/pseuds/monsterhugger
Summary: Jon is struggling more and more with his new powers and his need for statements. Martin wants to help.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 5
Kudos: 102





	In Your Thoughts It's Obvious

Jon sat with his head on his desk, forehead pressed hard into the worn paper holding an old statement. He clutched his tape recorder in his hand, squeezing so tight he probably should have crushed it. Of course he wouldn’t be able to break the thing. Why would he? Why would the wretched tools of his addiction allow themselves to be destroyed?

He was still hungry. Old statements were never filling, and this one had been particularly bland on top of that. He wanted something fresh, but both he and the archive staff thought the less he fed the Eye, the better. If it wanted cake, they’d feed it crumbs. Enough to convince it it was being fed, but never a real meal. 

This practice was starting to feel less like resisting an evil force and more like self-harm the longer it went on. It wasn’t just the Eye starving, begging Jon to feed it. Jon himself was hungry, and he was starving himself. The others would hate him for seeking out a fresh statement, but he needed it so badly. Even as he’d consumed the statement currently on his desk he’d been thinking about it, the experience of sinking his teeth into a horror never put into writing or on tape. The satisfying fullness that came from absorbing a fresh trauma, from sucking the terror out of a mind still tender from the wounds inflicted by a horror. He could’ve sworn he was drooling.

But he couldn’t eat. Not really. He licked up the crumbs, taunting himself with the suggestion of a meal he couldn’t eat. It didn’t feel like normal hunger, it was the same clawing sensation that came from being starved but it came from somewhere deep in his mind. It gnawed at him, begging for more than table scraps, and Jon forced himself not to feed it.

Someone knocked on the door, and Jon realized how much his head hurt. He growled at the door. Well, not a growl-some deep, annoyed grunt, a perfectly human sound, but he’d come to hear these things as growls and roars given his new monstrous state.

“Martin?” he called out. Martin hadn’t spoken. Or opened the door. He shouldn’t have known it was Martin.

“It’s my turn to check up on you. Can you let me in so I can make sure you haven’t killed anyone?” Martin replied. He sounded worried.

“You all are worried about that now?” Jon sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Martin said. Always with the apologies. “I’m sure you’re fine, it’s just that… you know, given your new eating habits, we’re all a little worried about you.”

“Come in,” Jon conceded. Martin opened the door. Jon supposed he should start locking it at some point. He didn’t want to be disturbed during a recording. He didn’t know what the Eye would compel him to do if he was.

Martin stood in the doorway, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Jon wished he wouldn’t look at him like that, but it made sense. It would be weird for someone to stare into the eyes of a monster and not be afraid. Especially someone like Martin.

“You know I don’t actually eat them, right?” Jon asked, trying not to look Martin in the eye too hard. No use scaring him any more than he needed to.

“Still,” Martin said. He stood in the doorway, still staring at Jon. Jon shuffled the papers on his desk, giving some impression of rearranging them or putting them away. He knew he had another statement to eat somewhere, nothing substantial of course but enough to keep him busy. He’d been trying to ration them, taking his meagre offerings one at a time, spread out throughout the day to keep the hunger as far down in his mind as possible. But the hunger was getting to be too much to resist.

“Good statement, then?” Martin asked.

“It was bland,” Jon replied. He dug his fingertips into the desk. He’d definitely gone through all the statements in his office, or at least all the ones not under lock and key.

“I’m sorry,” Martin said. Again. He still felt sympathy towards Jon. He felt bad for starving him. Jon was somewhat baffled by this. Martin cared for him so much he was sad Jon wasn’t getting the victims he needed.

Martin still didn’t see him as a monster. Even after taking the statement of the woman on whom he’d fed, even after watching him degrade into a ravenous horror, Martin still forgave Jon. Even as Jon sat there, digging his eyes into Martin’s mind and pulling thoughts out as he pleased, thoughts Martin probably wasn’t too happy to share, Martin couldn’t help but like him. He feared him, of course, but he still liked him.

It was a good thing Martin had given his statement regarding the Colony before Jon had undergone this transformation. Jon didn’t know if he’d be able to resist the urge to feed if he hadn’t. Feeding on Martin seemed especially sick. Martin was vulnerable and gentle, it would hardly take much compelling to get him to spill his guts. Jon doubted he’d be able to resist it even then, the Eye had little care for the character of the things on which it fed, but Jon would feel especially bad hurting him.

Martin was still standing in the doorway, watching Jon dig his nails into the table and rock back and forth in his chair. Jon wished he’d go away. He wished Martin would leave so he could look for more statements. Undoing one of the locks shouldn’t be too hard, he just couldn’t do it while Martin was watching him.

“What do you _want,_ Martin?” Jon growled.

“What do I want?” Martin asked, his face going red. “I mean, the others sent me here to keep an eye on you, but honestly I just want to be with you. I want to kiss you, Jon. I want to hold your hands and I want to kiss you.”

Jon blinked.

“Oh dear,” Martin muttered. “I didn’t mean to say that. You made me say that, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear,” Jon replied. It was true-he hadn’t meant to compel Martin, but apparently the Eye had plans for him.

“I’m-actually, you know what? I’m not sorry. You’re the one digging through my head, not my fault you don’t like what you find.”

“I told you I didn’t mean to.”

“The Eye made you do it, hm? Because the Eye cares so much about my crush on you.”

“I don’t know. I guess. I can’t control it.”

“What else does it want out of me, then? What else are you going to make me say?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it wants anything else out of you. You’ve already told me about the Colony. That’s all, isn’t it?”

“I mean, in terms of supernatural things, I suppose that’s about it. Does the Eye care if I was bullied in school or something like that?”

“No, I don’t think it does. You’re safe.”

“I’d hardly call it safe.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Jon said, leaning back in his chair.

“What?”

“Come on, Martin. Surely you don’t think I’m the only one who noticed?” Jon grinned at him. Martin’s face got even more red. “The others are hardly mind readers, and they’ve noticed how… protective of me you are.”

“I can’t help it! You’re not exactly in the safest line of work, if anything happened to you I’d just… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I’m okay, Martin. You don’t need to worry.”

“I do! I do need to worry, I mean, look what’s already happened to you!”

Jon glanced down at the table, at the wrinkled statement he’d just devoured, at his hands covered with holes from the worms that had burrowed into him. Martin’s overprotectiveness may have been sweet, but it hadn’t done much to actually protect him.

“Doesn’t mean you need to worry. It’s not your job to protect me.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“No, of course not! You’re my assistant. You’re meant to be doing research for me, not taking bullets for me.”

“Tell that to Tim and Sasha,” Martin muttered.

“I didn’t mean to get them killed. You _know_ I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I do. I just keep thinking about… when my time comes, you know? Because it will, surely you know that. I just can’t stop thinking about whether I’m going to be able to do that.”

“Martin, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me. No one’s expecting that.”

“But like... I’m not exactly a brave person. I don’t want to leave you on your own to fight whatever comes for you.”

“What is it you think you’re doing right now?”

“Oh. I suppose this is something. Though I suppose you’d like me to leave now, I’ve made things awkward enough and you probably want to get back to whatever it is you’re doing.”

Jon shook his head.

“Martin, can you come closer?”

Martin looked at Jon warily.

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you want to stay with me, you can stay.”

Martin took a few steps toward Jon’s desk. Jon reached a hand out over his desk, offering it to Martin as gently as he could manage. Martin took his hand cautiously. He ran his thumb over the patch of worm scars at the base of Jon’s thumb. Jon watched, trying not to feel too self conscious about the scars. It didn’t feel quite right when Martin caressed his hand, which he figured must have been due to the abundance of scar tissue there. A lot of his body felt that certain type of wrong, sort of numb and itchy and with an unpleasant, bumpy texture. Martin didn’t seem disturbed by the feeling of the scars covering his hand, or at least he wasn’t disturbed enough that Jon could tell without peeking into his brain. He tried very hard not to do that.

Martin laced his fingers in between Jon’s and squeezed his hand tightly. He made an odd noise, and Jon looked up and saw that he was crying. Tears sprang up at the corners of his eyes and sniffled softly.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked. He squeezed Martin’s hand back.

“It’s nothing,” Martin mumbled. “Just that... I realised this is the first time I’ve ever actually touched you. Is that a weird thing to get emotional about?”

“I mean, I suppose not.” It was a little weird. Martin may have thought about Jon a certain way for a long time, but Jon certainly didn’t feel the same. Or at least, he hadn’t. He’d never thought about holding Martin’s hand before, but now that he was, he found himself enjoying it greatly. Martin had such soft, gentle hands. His touch was comforting.

“I wish I had gotten to know you better. Before everything happened.”

“Before you were scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“If it helps, it wouldn’t upset me if you were.”

“Fine. You can see into my head, I’m a little scared.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid you’ll hurt me. Like that woman from the coffee shop. I don’t want to end up having fucked up nightmares about you.”

Jon nodded, gripping Martin’s hand tighter. Martin caressed his hand again. It occurred to Jon that this was the first time someone had really tried to comfort him through this. He felt like he might start crying too.

“What did you expect me to say?” Martin asked, smiling down at Jon. His eyes were soft and caring. “I was scared you’d find out how I feel about you?”

“I mean, of course. Would’ve explained why you haven’t told me til now.”

“It’s not that I was afraid of you finding out! I’m just shy, okay?”

“I know, I know.”

“Can we find somewhere to sit?” Martin asked. “I… god, you know what I want. Can we just sit together? For a while? I mean, if you’re busy I can come back later, but… I think it would be good.”

“That does sound good,” Jon agreed. “Not much sitting room in here. You mind sitting up against a filing cabinet?”

“I suppose not.” Martin let go of Jon’s hand just enough for him to get up from his desk and walk over to sit in front of the locked filing cabinet against the wall. Martin slumped down next to him. He was keeping a few centimetres between himself and Jon, and Jon noticed him sliding a hair closer only to get shy again and slide further away. Jon decided to break the tension and close the gap, sliding himself over so his thigh was flush with Martin’s. Martin went bright red.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked. “I mean, I’ve heard Melanie say things, how you don’t really…”

“Oh. Well, that’s all a bit complicated. I certainly don’t mind this, though.” He nudged Martin's arm, and Martin took his hand again eagerly, squeezing tightly. Jon leaned against Martin, resting his head against his shoulder. It was warm and comforting, and Jon realized just how long it had been since he’d been physically close to someone. Or emotionally close to someone, for that matter. Reading someone’s mind wasn’t exactly the same as having someone trust you and confide in you.

“How long have you…. felt like this?” Jon asked.

“You mean how long have I been in love with you?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Jon’s heart was racing. He’d been avoiding calling it that, but now that Martin has said it, he supposed he had to accept it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Martin to be in love with him, or that Martin being in love with him made him uncomfortable. He just didn’t know how to handle it.

“Well… this is going to sound stupid,” Martin muttered.

“It’s okay, I’m sure it won’t.” Jon said.

“You were having me do follow-up on a statement. I don’t remember which one, it had to be one of your first as Archivist because I know I’ve felt this way for a long time. You were having me do follow-up, and I was listening to your recording, and after I’d replayed it about five times I realized I hadn’t understood it a single time. I just kept replaying it over and over, and I just kept listening to your voice. I couldn’t focus on the statement at all. I could only focus on your voice, and on you, and your… mouth. And this was before you had any magic powers, so I know you weren’t controlling me. I just fell in love.”

“That’s sweet,” Jon said, squeezing Martin’s hand. He rested their clasped hands on Martin’s thigh, and Martin jumped a little.

“I’m sorry for dropping this all on you now,” Martin said. “You must be really stressed right now, considering... everything. This probably isn’t helping.”

Jon shook his head, pressing his body against Martin’s. The hunger still clawed at his mind, but it was less intense now. He could almost ignore it.

“No. It’s helping.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know I needed this, I guess I was so caught up in everything that was happening to me, I forgot about human contact. That, and I thought everyone was too afraid of me to actually get close.”

“Oh, Jon,” Martin whispered. He put his arm around Jon, holding him close. Jon rested his head on Martin’s chest. Martin’s arm was big, and he held Jon so tightly, Jon didn’t feel so powerful. It was nice, feeling small and _human_ again, like he didn’t have the power to hurt people just by speaking to them. Martin kissed the top of his head. Then he loosened his hold on Jon reflexively.

“Sorry,” Martin said. “I-I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay,” Jon assured him, laughing softly. “I like this. Feels good to have someone care about me like this.”

“I hardly think I’m the only one who cares about you,” Martin said.

“Maybe not. But you’re the only one willing to get close to me anymore. The only one who isn’t a monster trying to kill me, anyway.”

Martin ran his hand through Jon’s hair. His hair had gotten much longer since he’d become Archivist, it was practically down to his shoulders and he couldn’t imagine cutting it now.

“It’s just not fair,” Martin muttered.

“What’s not fair?”

“That this had to happen to you. That everyone’s scared of you. That the Eye is making you hurt people.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Jon... I know you. Or at least I think I do. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course not.”

“But it made you hurt those people.”

“It did. But I can control it now.”

“Can you really?”

“I mean, sort of.”

“See? It’s not fair.”

“If it’s any consolation, this... this is helping. It’s not your responsibility to save me or anything, but you being here, holding me, it helps. I can’t feel the Eye as much.”

Martin kept holding Jon close to his chest, playing with his hair. Jon grabbed onto Martin’s shirt.

“Are you crying?” Martin asked.

Jon lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. Sure enough, he’d been crying.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve just been so alone. I didn’t think anyone cared this much about me, not really. I mean, this sounds dumb, but I didn’t think anyone could _love_ me like this.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Martin rubbed his back. Jon felt calm. He never wanted to leave Martin’s arms, he felt like if he did he’d die.

“I think I love you too,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

“Oh. Well, that’s... that’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“For doing this. For being here for me.”

“Just doing my job.”

“No. No, you’re not doing this because it’s your job. You’re doing this because you care about me. And that means so much. You have no fucking idea how much that means-how much _you_ mean to me.”

Martin kissed him again. Jon was still crying, but it felt good to cry. It felt so good to cry into Martin’s shirt while Martin held him in his arms. It felt safe.

“Can you stay?” Jon asked.

“I’d love to,” Martin replied. “I can stay as long as you need me.”


End file.
